


Deluge

by hiddencait



Series: Of Salt and Ashes [2]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Because I say so that's why, Domestic Fluff, Everybody Lives, Multi, OT3, some distant future where everyone is happy and cuddly and in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:20:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23369881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddencait/pseuds/hiddencait
Summary: The shutters creaked, and Abigail eased open her eyes to see Billy at the window again, peering out into the steady rain with his forehead furrowed.
Relationships: Abigail Ashe/Billy Bones, Abigail Ashe/Billy Bones/Charles Vane, Abigail Ashe/Charles Vane
Series: Of Salt and Ashes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/739347
Comments: 16
Kudos: 39





	Deluge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whatdoyoumeanitsnotawesome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatdoyoumeanitsnotawesome/gifts).



> Was finally in a fic writing mood again for the first time in months and also realized the archives for these pairings haven't had much in the way of updates lately so I put out the call for prompts over at the AsheBones Rowboat discord channel and @whatdoyoumeanitsnotawesome requested "a rainy day with AsheBonesVane just lounging around in their PJs or something with Billy being bad at being idle and Charles being a big lion: a huge, lazy cat, content to be idolent except for brief energetic bursts of violence." This is what I came up with in response - hope you all enjoy!
> 
> ETA: After thinking about it, this DEFINITELY fit into my planned Of Salt and Ashes series though obviously several years down the road from where we're at with 'she's so high, high above me'

The shutters creaked, and Abigail eased open her eyes to see Billy at the window again, peering out into the steady rain with his forehead furrowed. He hadn’t bothered to put his shirt back on, just pulled on his trousers before padding to the window in his bare feet, just like the last time he’d slipped out of bed to check the weather. She lifted her head from Charles’s shoulder to watch him, wondering if he’d come back to their bed or go to fidget at the kitchen table out of sheer restlessness.

They were meant to be careening. The _Penelope_ – and even now in her drowsy state, the name of the “liberated” ship her men had claimed made her smile, knowing as she did why Billy’d suggested the name after their last reading of James’s copy of the _Odyssey –_ was already properly beached in a nearby sheltered cove, but the men had barely begun their work when the unseasonal rain began to fall hard and steady and drenching everything, ship, sails, and men alike. It was still raining now three days later, and while the ropes securing the _Penelope_ to the nearby trees were holding, she knew well enough that they would likely be stretching in their soaked state, possibly loosening and thus increasing the likelihood that the ship would shift more than Billy liked. It might not be terribly dangerous to continue the careening in the rain, but there was no need to risk it, not with the safety of the men at stake.

In the meantime, Abigail was sure the inn and brothel were doing a brisk business with the crew finding themselves with so much unexpected time on their hands. At the rate some of the men were going, they’d leave shore again with next to nothing in their pockets.

Not her men, though. Charles might once have enjoyed the services of the girls at the brothel, but these days he was just as quick to head home as Billy was, both of them barely taking the time to assure that the newly promoted bosun Muldoon would get their prize cargoes to market before setting out for the house and her.

It didn’t mean waiting at home settled easily in weather like this, though, especially when there was work to be done. Billy in particular had a need to feel useful, to be productive even when at his leisure at home. The laziest she’d seen him – aside from when curled up in their bed – was on quiet afternoons outside on the veranda. Charles would spend those afternoons in the hammock dozing, but Billy would sit with her, either reading aloud or writing another of the pamphlets he provided for the ongoing propaganda war he, the Hamiltons, and Max were waging with the rest of the world.

Abigail eyed him again as he sighed and made to shut the shutters, only to pull them open again as if the mere moments they were closed the rain might have stopped. Beside her, Charles stirred, likely due to the brief draft as the shutters closed and opened again. He didn’t bother lifting his head, just muttered into the pillow. “For fuck’s sake, Bones, the ship’ll still be there in a day or so. Either lay back down or fuck off and let me sleep.”

She stifled a giggle as Billy turned, half glaring, half pouting like a small boy at their lover’s words. He caught her grin, and the pout vanished as he rolled his eyes. “I’ll get going on supper then, yeah? Leave you two layabouts here.”

“Fine. Good. Go.” Charles halfheartedly waved at him, already drifting back to sleep. Billy huffed fondly and came over to the bed to press a kiss to the middle of Charles’s bared back and then to Abigail’s forehead.

“Sleep, love. I’ll call you both when soup is on.” She nodded to him and curled back up against their lover’s shoulder.

“Will you leave the shutters cracked, please? I like the sound of the rain.” He did as she bid and left the room.

Charles moved to curl himself around her, and it struck her, as it always did when her men were home, that she somehow never realized how much she missed the comfort of another person nearby when they were away.

In all truth, Abigail was a solitary creature by nature. Even as a school girl, she’d only needed a few close companions, choosing often to keep to herself curled up with her journals and her music instead of gathering a crowd to gossip and laugh as some of the others happily did. It was that desire for solitude that kept her off the account. Most of Nassau’s residents assumed her men had ordered her home for safety or for control – most of the island was split between the two opinions honestly. But those closest to the trio knew _she’d_ been the one to choose to remain ashore in their little cottage with its small garden and stable, reveling in the domesticity and the quiet she’d chosen for herself over the cramped belly of the ship and its sailors living and working constantly under each other’s feet.

The violence she could have handled, but press of bodies and the smell of their sweat and hard work day after day after day? Somehow that stirred up more memories than the sight of blood, and those memories Abigail was perfectly happy to avoid. The trauma of the few long journeys aboard ship she’d already lived had been quite enough, thank you very much. 

In any case, if it had truly been her safety in question, her men would have kept her with them, she knew, or made the sacrifice to have one with her on land at all times.

They’d have hated that. All three of them would have hated that, Billy and Charles missing the sea and each other during their turns ashore and she feeling the guilt at making them do so. No, she was the one who could stand being alone better than either of them, and too, was the most suited for organizing and maintaining the home they’d built together. Larger repairs did of course often wait for shore leave if she didn’t feel the need to hire one of the local carpenters, but anything else?

For everything else, Abigail was more than capable of making due, be it cleaning or gardening or any one of the many tiny tasks that came with keeping a house in proper order. And if her solitude tipped the scale towards loneliness, there was always the horse in the stable. Miranda, Thomas, and James still lived in the little house no more than a half hour’s ride away, and if she truly wished for the bustle, Abigail could easily travel into town to do her duty to Society, such as it was. Max and Idelle always welcomed her visits, after all.

“You’re thinking too loudly,” Charles muttered, breaking her musings. He wrapped an arm around her and nuzzled into her neck. “Just sleep – you’re the one who wanted a nap after all.”

Abigail smiled. “I believe, sir, that it is my recollection that it was not my idea to come to bed, nor was the original idea to simply sleep.”

“Hmm, no idea what you mean.” The satisfied grin that pressed against her skin said he did in fact know exactly what she meant, but she just shook her head and settled back against him.

Her eyes slipped closed and she listened to the rain, basking in the warmth of his body beside her and the faint sounds of Billy in the other room and the knowledge that for the moment at least, they were home.


End file.
